Fade
by sinemoras09
Summary: Your livid shadows never seem to change /when two-by-two, we rock our pain to sleep on a restless bed. Haji/Saya, unrequited. Angst. Post-timeskip. No spoilers.


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1.

The bruise under her eye is a mottled pink, the purple swell of flesh crowding the borders of her lower lid. Haji unbuttons his collar and moves to let her feed, but Saya pushes him away. She doesn't speak. Her good eye closes; a single tear spills over.

xXx

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It was not always like this. Haji watches her sleep and remembers how just a few short months ago, she had been happy.

In Okinawa, he watched from the shadows as Saya ran and played catch with Kai. He watched as she caught the ball and threw it back, and it reminded Haji of his time at the Zoo, and how Saya would make wreaths of flowers and lean against him, looking up at the clouds and plucking the petals, idly. If she loved him, he would have let his hands card through her hair absently, brushing back the long strands while she chatted and stared up at the clouds. Her head would still rest on his lap, but he would let his hand rest on her stomach, let himself feel the gently rise and fall of her belly as she breathed. With envy he watched as her so-called brother touched her shoulder with impunity, before moving to let his hand trail at the small of her back. Saya laughed and talked and Kai smiled and rubbed his neck, and Haji knew as all men do that women cannot love those whom they forget.

He left just as Saya leaned forward to whisper in Kai's ear.

xXx  
>.<p>

Saya sighs, and Haji shifts her weight against his chest. It's enough just to be able to hold her like this, and gently he cradles her close, careful to keep one chaste hand around her waist. She isn't healing as fast as she normally does, and she winces, even in her sleep.

"Saya." Haji gently brushes back a strand of her hair. "You must feed. It will hurt less."

He cuts his palm with a knife and offers his hand to drink. Her eyelids peel open, but she dully shakes her head. He offers his hand again. "Please," Haji says. Saya closes her eyes.

His hand stings, but not as much as the rejection of his blood, which makes Haji's throat tighten despite himself. Slowly he shifts and re-wraps his hand in bandages, keeping a measured distance between himself and Saya's body. Saya's breathing slows, and quietly Haji rises and takes his perch at the corner of his room, nursing his bandaged hand and keeping his eyes fixed on the patch of moonlight splayed on the floor.

"Haji?"

He turns. Saya leans against the bed. She looks frightened and small.

"Will you stay with me?" she says. Dark eyes flick upward. "Please?"

"If that is what you wish," Haji says, and he sits gingerly beside her.

There is the sound of tires on driving on pavement, and yellow headlights arc across the dark walls of the room before disappearing as the car drives past; meanwhile Saya has balled up into herself, hugging her arms and curling her knees to her chin. The monsters she's killed are countless but she is no less battle-scared: Haji can see the small cuts and bruises on her arms.

If he were a better man, he would kiss her. Gather her up in his arms and hold her close. He would cradle her head in his hands and let his thumb brush against her cheek. Her eyes would close again and he would gently fondle the delicate line of her jaw, small and bird-like and just so fragile, while he would dip low and murmur her name in her ear, "Saya," he would say, in a voice meant to be soothing and familiar, but his thumb would dip between parted lips and into her mouth, and she would look up at him with trusting eyes and lave the tip of his finger with her tongue.

He imagines what it would be like. How, with half-lidded eyes, she would clamber up against his lap, blouse unbuttoned and pebbled nipples against his shirt front. Headlights would pass and for a brief moment the darkness would snap in bright, taut bursts, shadows sinking and receding in time with her movements, the rocking of her hips as she drives herself onto him.

But he is a coward, and the only comfort he can offer is a small squeeze of the hand. "Saya," he says, and it is familiar and it is comforting, and Saya leans against his chest and lets him hold her, sinking against his shoulder and closing her one good eye.

xXx  
>.<p>

2.

Maybe it's the loss of blood, but Saya can't seem to stop touching him.

"Saya," Haji says, and Saya staggers, feeling punch-drink and woozy as he sharply pulls her into the hotel room, her balance dangerously off-kilter and leaning against his side. The sword clatters; flecks of blood splatter onto the hardwood floor.

She's dizzy and she can't stand, so Haji picks her up and helps her onto the bed. "Haji," she says, and he sits beside her. She turns and presses her face against his lap. "I feel like I can't open my eyes."

"Do not strain yourself," Haji says, and she rests her head against his stomach, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You are still healing. It is all the more reason you must feed."

She can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing under her cheek, and she feels a hand gently rest against her head. "I'm too dizzy to sit up," Saya says, and Haji gently shifts her weight, lying chastely beside her and undoing the collar to his shirt.

Saya moves, resting on top of him as she pulls back Haji's collar.

He seems to be holding his breath, and Saya leans forward, breathing in the scent of his skin before letting her lips brush over the tender pulse. Gooseflesh rises on the delicate skin there, and Saya pauses, rubbing her mouth over the strap muscles of his neck and the hollow of his collarbone.

She bites down, and blood gushes into her mouth.

Haji's eyes fall closed, and Saya nurses on him, gently. Blood trickles down her chin and Saya quietly begins to unbutton the rest of Haji's shirt-she does not want to soil his clothes-and she feels his muscles tense. A thin trickle of blood rolls down the front of Haji's chest, and Saya moves, lapping it with her tongue.

There is a sound, an almost inaudible groan, and Saya lets her hand fall over his bare stomach, lightly pulling at the sensitive hairs below his navel. Haji sighs again, and idly she wonders about the other pulse-points of his body, answering pulses on his arms and wrists. She rubs her mouth lightly over his stomach, her hand ghosting the pulse by his thigh.

"Saya." His voice is tight and Saya pulls back, abruptly.

"Did I hurt you?" Saya grips his arm, tight.

"No," Haji says.

She falls asleep. Just as she does, she feels Haji gently draping a blanket over her shoulders.

xXx  
>.<p>

There is a noise, and Saya blearily opens her eyes.

There it is: a rustling of fabric, beating and rhythmic, and dimly Saya is aware of Haji crouched in the corner. He always stays near her when she's asleep, and tonight is no different.

No different, except for that hitch in Haji's breath, and the soft, furtive sounds of flesh beating over flesh.

Saya freezes. Her mind spins, but for all her innocence Saya knows exactly what he's doing.

They shared only that cramped hotel room, and he couldn't go on the rooftops-propriety and a healthy sense of shame likely kept him from exposing himself out in the open like that-and the acoustics of the bathroom were such that they amplified everything. Joel once said it was a natural function, like belching or using the toilet. She squeezes her eyes, determined to ignore it.

Except that she can't; the night is painfully quiet except for Haji's ragged breathing and the rough, desperate movements of his hand on himself. She wants to lift her head, wants to see exactly what he's doing, but she knows that even the slightest movement would alert Haji to her wakefulness.

So she lies there, forcing herself to focus on other things: the way her mattress feels, the grain of sheets against her skin, face red and painfully wet. Reflexively her mind conjures an image of Haji holding her sword, and Saya finds she knows exactly how his fingers would curl around himself, can picture his eyes squeezed shut and how his mouth would pant against one muffled sleeve.

She had been sleeping on her stomach; now she can't quite help the way her body strains against the mattress, squirming and squeezing her thighs. She can hear Haji panting harder now, breath taut and the sound of his hand faster and more erratic, and it takes all of hear willpower not to snake her hand between her legs and touch herself as well.

Haji is breathing harder now; she can hear him straining, can hear each taut breath and shaky exhale, and despite herself she's grinding her hips and clit against the bed.

There's a voice inside of her, a wicked voice that points out that they're both doing it, they might as well feel good together, but it's Haji and this is not the purpose for her life, which is knit together by the pain of others' suffering. She thinks of Joel and Diva and the way her wicked body betrays her when her thoughts are interrupted by a sudden sharp intake of breath.

He's close. Saya presses her thighs tighter, rocking her hips against the mattress, unbearably aroused. The sound of his hand is more frantic, each breath winding tighter and tighter until Haji gasps and slumps over, panting softly.

She had just heard Haji come.

"Saya."

Saya freezes. Her core is still pressed hard against the mattress, and she quivers slightly, just on the edge of orgasm. Did he hear her? Did he know she was awake?

But no. She hears Haji rise, unsteady and feeling ashamed, disappearing into the bathroom next door.

The next morning, Haji is careful not to touch her. He avoids her eyes and leaves before she can say anything, the sound of his wings vaulting through the window.

xXx  
>.<p>

3.

This is what should happen:

A watery gray light filters through the dingy room, and Saya wakes to the feel of Haji's face pressed against her neck. She shifts slightly. His arm is around her waist, and when she moves, he tightens his grip, breathing deep and pressing her against his chest. He feels warm. Saya sighs and settles against him, pulling his hand to her face.

Time passes; soon a thin square of light falls on Saya's face. She blinks, then opens her eyes. Haji is still holding her. Slowly, Saya turns and faces him. Haji's eyes open. They watch each other for what seem like years before Saya reaches up and kisses him softly on the mouth.

The springs creak when Saya moves to straddle him on his lap, pushing him down against the shabby mattress. The air is cold and stale and her hair falls over her face in a tangled curtain, but he feels warm and good and she shudders slightly, a muted rush of pleasure building up at the base of her spine. She arches up, and he dips his head and presses his face against the curve of her belly, the tips of his claws feather-light and scraping against her skin.

Saya groans, and he rolls her onto her back. He's kissing her mouth, her neck, traces a line from her lips to the hollow over her collarbone, the spaces behind her ear. Calloused hands drag up her shirt and expose her breasts, and he's kissing there too, hot mouth on hard nipples; she gathers her fingers in his hair and moans as he dips lower, his mouth tracing the curve of her belly and between her legs.

"Oh!" Saya throws her head back as he nurses her clit, her muscles beginning to clench. "Oh!"

She comes hard, gasping and spasming against him. Her voice is hoarse and she's shaking slightly, and suddenly Haji's shoving her down, kissing her hard and gathering her in his arms. His mouth collides against hers; his hands press greedily against her skin. The movements are frantic now, hungry, desperate. He spreads her roughly open and her knees knock into the sides of his ribs. She feels him at her entrance; his breath hitches in his throat. He's trying not to hurt her.

"Just do it," Saya says. "Haji, please-"

Haji takes a breath, and in one swift movement penetrates her. Saya gasps; it's too much, too fast, oh god it feels good, she claws her hands against his back. "Don't stop, don't stop," she says, and he buries his face against her shoulder as he pushes back inside of her...

She fights. Her katana swings, bodies falling and blood splashing onto her face. Later, she cries softly against his shoulder, letting him settle her against his chest and rock her slowly. There are no words. He looks at her and seems to understand exactly what she's feeling, because he gathers her close and kisses her again and again, up and down the sides of her face and by the corners of her eyes.

xXx  
>.<p>

This is what does happen:

Saya moves and Haji chastely removes himself from her grip, gently peeling off her fingers and carefully rising from the bed. He pours her a glass of water and hands it to her, and Saya drinks, gratefully.

The curtains move. Sunshine spills into the dingy room.

xXx  
>.<p>

It's enough just to be able to hold her like this, and gently he cradles her close, careful to keep one chaste hand around her waist. She isn't healing as fast as she normally does, and she winces, even in her sleep.

"Saya." Haji gently brushes back a strand of her hair. "You must feed. It will hurt less."

"I'm fine," Saya says, and she smiles into Haji's neck.

Headlights arc across them, and Haji smiles, closing his eyes.


End file.
